Back to the Future Part III And a Half
by Flaming Trails
Summary: Basically, what if Doc and Marty had convinced Clara they were from the future, and she went with them in the DeLorean? AU Fic like all my others, some swearing. May or May not be continued.
1. Telling Clara

Back To The Future, Part III ½

By Flaming Trails

A Back To The Future Story

Disclaimer: I don't own BTTF. If I did, Clara wouldn't have DARED slap Doc.

Note: Just addressing the age-old Backie Question: "What if Doc and Marty had told Clara about the time machine before they left?"

Chapter 1

Sunday, September 6th, 1885

Hill Valley, California

10:13 P. M.

"Maybe we should just take Clara with us. To the future."

Doc frowned and shook his head. "As you reminded me, Marty, I'm a scientist, so I must be scientific about this. I cautioned you about disrupting the space-time continuum for your own benefit. Therefore, I must do no less.

Marty stared at his long-time friend. Why the hell was he being so _stubborn_?! "Doc, this isn't some damn Sports Almanac! This is somebody human. Somebody you love. I've seen the way you guys look at each other."

"I know, I know. Don't remind me. But I can't do this. There's too much risk."

"Too much risk?!"

"Yes, too much risk. You can't just transplant a person from one time to another. Don't you remember how confused you were when you traveled to the 50s? Imagine how it would be for Clara, going a full _century_ into the future! And there's no telling how she would affect our time."

"But, Doc, she could adapt. I adapted, right? It's not like she'll be alone. We can help her, like you helped me back in 55."

"But what about the risks to the future?"

"Doc." Marty looked Doc straight in the eyes. "If it was me, if she was Jennifer -- would you tell me to leave her behind?"

Doc had no answer to that. He turned away from Marty's gaze, looking into the fire. _Could I? Could I tell him to leave behind forever the woman he loves?_

Encouraged by the hesitation, Marty pressed on. "_None_ of us belong here, Doc. Not you, not me -- _not her._ I don't know as much about it as you do, but I'd bet that, if we take her with us, we've got a heck of a better chance of getting back to the home we know. Back to 1985 as it should be. And as for the future -- you just told me it wasn't set. She might mess it up -- or she might make it even better. Take the chance, Doc."

Doc just kept staring into the fire. Saddened, Marty turned away. Doc would never do it. After all they had gone through, with Jennifer getting lost in the future, and Biff completely screwing up 1985, he'd never do it. Not even --

"Hey."

Marty looked back. To his amazement, Doc was smiling at him. "I always chide _you_ for not thinking fourth-dimensionally," he said softly. "Come on. Let's tell her."

"All right!" Marty grinned. His best friend wasn't so inflexible after all. They jumped on their horses and rode off.

Sunday, September 6th

10:31 P. M.

It was awfully late for the local schoolteacher to still be up, but Clara Clayton didn't care. She had things to do -- things she had neglected in the haze of love. It was surprising what you forgot when the man of your dreams showed up.

She was doing a bit of last-minute lesson planning when she heard the knock. Puzzled, she pushed her long hair back and went to the door, wondering who on earth could be calling at this hour. Standing on her porch was Emmett Brown and his friend Clint Eastwood. They both looked pretty nervous about something. "Emmett!" Clara said happily. "What an unexpected pleasure. And Clint, how nice to see you too. Won't you both come in?"

"Thank you for the offer, but we'd better not. Not yet," Emmett told her, fidgeting with his hat. "In fact, we need you to come with us. We need to show you something."

"Show me something? At this time of night?"

"It's really important," Clint said. "And really, _really_ hard to explain."

Clara hesitated a moment, studying them. Then she grabbed her coat and came outside. "Can't you tell me anything?" she asked stubbornly. "If it's this important, to take a woman out in the middle of the night. . . ."

"We're leaving, Clara."

"Leaving?"

"Leaving Hill Valley."

Clara felt like she had been struck. Leaving Hill Valley? Emmett couldn't leave Hill Valley! Not now! "What do you mean, leaving Hill Valley?" she said, feeling the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

"We have to. We don't belong here. But I don't want to leave you behind." Emmett took her hands tenderly. "We want you to come with us. But before we can take you, you have to understand where we're going and why."

"I would go anywhere with you, Emmett." God, she wanted to kiss him. Her dear, sweet scientist blacksmith. She leaned in closer, getting lost in his liquid brown eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too." He leaned down and gave her the gentlest of kisses. "I almost didn't leave because of you. It's why we want you to come."

Clara smiled teasingly at Clint. "Why, Mr. Eastwood, you love me too?"

Clint chuckled a little and smiled back. "I certainly _like_ you. I've never seen Doc so happy. Heck, I didn't know my best friend could dance before you two met."

"Best friend?"

Clint blinked. "Yeah. Doc's my pal."

Clara began to blush. "I was _certain _you were related. I thought you might be at least his nephew."

"That's an easy enough mistake to make, I suppose," Emmett laughed. "Clint's -- no, _Marty's_ -- real father often sarcastically remarks I'm the one who deserves the title."

"Marty? Your name isn't Clint Eastwood?" Clara frowned. _Now why would he lie about his name? Unless. . . ._ "You're not wanted anywhere, are you?"

"I hope not! My real name's Marty McFly. I'm Seamus and Maggie McFly's great great grandson."

Clara looked from Marty to Emmett, getting rather annoyed. _What nonsense is this?_ "Is this some sort of joke?" she demanded.

Both Emmett and Marty shook their head empathetically. "No joke. We wouldn't joke about this. Please, Clara, come with us. We can explain once you see."

The utter sincerity in their eyes convinced her that she should go with them. "If this is a joke, I'm going to be very upset," she warned them, following Emmett as he climbed onto his horse.

Emmett extended his hand and helped her on. "Trust us," he said, giving her hand a squeeze.

"I'm trying, Emmett. I'm trying."

Sunday, September 6th

11:00 P. M.

The firelight reflecting off its metal body gave the DeLorean an almost demonic glow. Which was kind of appropriate, Doc reflected as they galloped closer. Ever since the time machine had entered their lives, it seemed to have caused nothing but trouble.

_You're being foolish_, he chided himself. _That's a machine. You can't blame a machine for human mistakes. And it's not like nothing good has happened from using that. Marty's parents are much improved, and he has a happier family life. And I -- I've got a girlfriend!_

He looked back at Clara as they stopped beside their camp. She was staring at the DeLorean with wide eyes, mouth hanging open. "My God," she murmured as they dismounted. "What _is_ that?"

"A DeLorean. It's a car. It's also, in this case, a time machine."

Clara's gaze snapped to him. "A what?"

Doc led her to the car and opened it up. "A time machine," he repeated, letting her had a good look at the insides. "One that I invented a century from now. Clara -- this is going to sound completely impossible, but I'm from the year 1985. Both myself and Marty. And tomorrow we intend to return to that time."

Clara looked from him to the DeLorean, then back at him. Very cautiously, she touched the time circuit displays. She knew he was telling the truth. Not only from seeing this incredible wagon. She could see it in his eyes as well. "1985," she whispered.

"Pretty heavy, huh?" Marty said, coming up behind them.

Clara blinked. "Well, it _looks_ heavy enough. Far heavier than the wagons I've seen."

Marty burst out laughing. "Oh, man, I'm sorry, but -- you guys are perfect for each other!"

Clara looked at Doc, now absolutely baffled. "1985 slang," he explained, frowning at Marty. "Like 'dude' in this time. My 1955 self didn't understand either."

"1955 self." Clara shook her head. "Emmett, I don't know what to think anymore! You've just told me you're time travelers, and--"

"Why don't I start by showing you how the machine works, then we'll tell you about our adventures with it."

"That's gonna take up most of the night, Doc," Marty pointed out, not unreasonably.

"I'll try to keep it short. I'd rather she come with us knowing than not knowing." Doc hopped inside the car and began explaining to Clara how the different components worked.

Monday, September 7th, 1885

Hill Valley, California

5:49 A. M.

It was nearing dawn by the time they finished their narratives. Clara shook her head in wonder. "What's happened to you is simply incredible. I wouldn't have believed it, had I not see the time machine. I'm sure you're both eager to get back to your own time and forget all this."

"I doubt I'll _ever_ forget it," Marty sighed.

"Me neither. In two days, we've both lived about a lifetime." Doc looked at Clara, trying to hide his nervousness. "Are you still willing to go with us? Skip over 100 years of time?"

Clara nodded bravely. "I've really got nothing keeping me here except my job. And from what you've told me, there's supposed to be another teacher here anyway, so. . . . My mother and father, back in New Jersey, told me not to come back without a proper husband. I don't think you'd qualify in their eyes, no matter how wonderful you are."

She abruptly realized what she had implied. Doc stared at her, face aglow. "You mean that? You'd be willing to marry me?"

"Willing?! Emmett, I'd marry you in a second!"

Doc threw his arms around her. "Oh, Clara!" He kissed her hard, making them both feel a tad dizzy. "Once we're all safe and sound in 1985, I swear by Jules Verne we'll get married." Smiling over at Marty, he added, "Best man?"

"Are you kidding, you bet!" Marty joined the hug. "This is great, you guys getting together. I mean, you two _belong_ together. It must have been simple shitty luck to be born in different centuries."

"Please watch your mouth," Clara gently reprimanded. "And before we can think of marriage, we have to _get _to 1985."

"Very true," Doc nodded. "Here's my plan. The train leaves Hill Valley today at eight o'clock." Doc used a stick to draw a crude map in the dirt. "We can cut them off at Coyote Pass and bring the locomotive to the switch track. I've bribed some people, another engineer and such, to find them there and help them to their respective destinations. That way we hopefully won't change the future too drastically. We'll switch the track and head for the future."

He paused and looked at Clara. "This may seem a strange question, but you're a plucky woman. Do you want to help us hi -- _borrow_ the train?"

Clara giggled. "I had my fill of excitement when you saved me from the ravine. I'll stay here and make sure no one tries to disturb your DeLorean." Her mood became serious again as she glanced at Marty. "But what about you and Buford? If you don't show up in town to fight him, everyone will think you're yellow."

Marty considered that for a minute. Then he shook his head. "It isn't worth it. I'd rather be a chicken than dead. I mean a coward," he explained, remembering Clara might not understand his slang. "Afer all I've been through, I just want to see my family and my girlfriend again."

"You're not being a coward," Doc told him firmly, "you're being realistic. You should never let strangers guide you. Trust your own instincts. If I'd listened to all my critics, we wouldn't be here right now." He paused. "All right, bad example, but you see my point."

A strange look appeared on Marty's face. Doc knew he was probably thinking about that bit of the future Doc had blabbed to him earlier. Not that the scientist had _never_ intended to tell him. Before the whole mess with the Almanac, he had planned to give Marty some sort of warning beforehand. Well, maybe this whole rotten experience in the Old West had served to drive the lesson home.

The look went away as Marty nodded to himself. "Thanks. But are you sure about all this stuff with the train? What if something goes wrong?"

"I've planned this out extensively. Nothing will go wrong. Now, regarding the time machine itself, we'll return to 1985 early in the morning of October 27th. I don't want to risk people seeing the time machine. You and Clara will board the DeLorean immediately, and then once the train is at optimal speeds, I'll join you."

Marty and Clara exchanged a very nervous and very worried look. "That sounds pretty dangerous, Doc."

"Someone has to monitor the situation from the locomotive cab."

"But -- what if you -- fall, or --" Clara began.

Marty squeezed his eyes shut. "Don't talk like that."

"I have to take that risk," Doc said. "If we worry about it, we'll make mistakes we can't afford. Let's take this one stage at a time. Now, who wants breakfast?"

Monday, September 7th

8:19 A. M.

Doc and Marty took a quick moment to relax in the train cab. The hijack had gone off without a hitch. The locomotive was in their possession, the passengers and engineers left safely behind. It was time to head back to the future. But as they drove the locomotive up to the DeLorean, they saw a horrific sight.

Buford Tannen and his gang were with Clara.


	2. Heeere's Buford

Chapter 2

Monday, September 7th

8:20 A. M.

Doc rushed to the stairwell. "Let her go, Tannen!" he roared.

Buford just smirked and looked down at his captive. The schoolteacher was bound and gagged, and there was a large tear in the front of her dress. She glared up at Buford and struggled against her bonds. "I don't think so, smithy. I aim to kill a man today, and it may as well be you." He glanced at Marty, who was standing behind Doc. "But I'd rather it be your yellow-belly friend."

"What the heck are you doing here?" Marty blurted, stunned.

"When you didn't show up, we decided to try and find you. Lucky for us, we stumbled across this filly with her funny wagon," one of the gang members said, leering at Clara. She gave him a look that would freeze fire.

Doc snarled, enraged. One hand went to his gun. "Leave her alone," he warned, face red.

Quick as a wink, four guns were pointed straight at Doc's heart. Buford scowled at Doc as Clara went white. "I'm warning you, smithy, one false move--"

"Or what?" Doc pulled his own gun. "I'm a better shot than you are, Buford."

Marty's breathing quickened as he looked at the scene. Those guns pointed at Doc -- this was familiar -- too familiar --

"Lesse you prove it without that dang-blasted rifle of yours. And even if you do out-shoot me, my boys will take you down."

"You and your gang of terrorists?"

_Terrorists? _

The gang cocked their guns. "I'll see you in hell, smithy."

Everyone jumped at the shriek. "NOOOOOO!"

There was a blur of motion, then Buford was flat on his back, Marty on top and pummeling his face into a pulp. Buford's gang gaped at the scene, uncomprehending. Doc took advantage of the moment to disarm them with a few well-placed shots. One woke up enough to pull his knife, but Clara managed to trip him.

Marty's wild motion finally slowed, and he got up, breathing heavily. Buford was unconscious, his face a mess of blood and bruises. The gang members exchanged a few uneasy glances. Then they quickly beat it out of there, as if afraid Marty was about to go psycho on them too. Doc ran to Clara's side and untied her. "Are you all right?"

Clara nodded. "Don't worry about me. They didn't take me down without a fight. I think the one to worry about is Marty."

Doc turned to the teen, trying to decide if he was annoyed or pleased at Marty's actions. "Marty," he began firmly.

Marty faced him. To Doc's surprise, tears were streaming down his face. "Doc -- I'm sorry, but -- when they pointed those guns at you--"

Suddenly, Doc understood. "The Libyans," he said quietly. Marty nodded, obviously not trusting his voice. "I know Marty. It's okay. Nothing's going to happen to me. That's why you couldn't leave me here either, isn't it?"

Another nod. "I -- I don't want you to die. After all that shit with the Libyans. . .seeing you shot twice was enough for me. The festival -- for a moment, I felt like I was going to scream. Then I remembered the pie plate, and the frisbees. You're lucky I didn't freak out then, Doc."

Doc took Marty into his arms. "Well, seeing Biff threaten you in that 1985-A was enough for me too." He squeezed. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere, except back to the future with you. I promise." He released the teen and smiled at him. "C'mon, let's get ready to leave this time behind." As he walked to the DeLorean, he added in a quieter voice, "Yes, what a wonderful place to spend my retirement years."

Marty laughed, feeling better. "Are you okay, Clara?"

"I'm fine. Buford Tannen got kicked quite a few times before they managed to tie me up."

"You're one heck of a woman, ma'am." They followed Doc over to the car, where he was unloading three logs from the back. All were different colors -- green, yellow, and red. "What are those, Doc?"

"My own version of Presto-Logs," Doc explained, motioning for Marty and Clara to each take one. "Chemically treated to burn hotter and longer. I use them in my forge so I don't have to stoke it."

"I guess this is where the other gas went?"

"When I first drained the car? Exactly. I saw no reason to keep it -- after all, I didn't expect you to come back and get me."

Clara spotted a number "two" on her yellow log. "Why are they numbered?"

"They're going to ignite sequentially," Doc said, displaying a "one" and a "three" on the green and red logs respectively. "Each one will increase the boiler pressure and make the train go faster. Hopefully we'll reach 88 miles per hour before or just after the boiler pressure reaches 2000 degrees."

"What happens at 2000?"

"The whole boiler explodes. We may be in for a number of interesting explosions before we are transported home."

"Great," Marty said sarcastically as they dumped the logs inside the train.

Doc ignored him. "You and Clara get in the DeLorean. Marty, set the time circuits for October 27th, 1985, 3:30 A. M."

"3:30 A. M.? Isn't that the early train?"

"You're right. Make it 3:15, we don't want to cut it down to the last second." Noting Marty's astonished look, he added, "I want this thing destroyed, Marty. At least for now. Maybe, in a few years, when we're all older and wiser, I'll try again with making a time machine."

Marty guessed he understood. Hopping through time didn't seem nearly as cool as when Doc had first demonstrated the machine. He wanted to get home and stay there. "You got it, Doc. And be careful."

"Listen to him, Emmett," Clara lectured. "I don't want to lose you so soon after finding you."

"I'll be fine," Doc assured them, kissing Clara and hugging Marty. "Now go on, get in."

Reluctantly, Marty and Clara climbed into the DeLorean. Marty set the time circuits appropriately as Clara stroked the cloth. "More comfortable than a horse, anyway," she said, making Marty snigger.

"I've gotten pretty sick of riding this past week." He settled back against the familiar seat. "I think you'll like it in 1985. We've got all sorts of cool stuff -- television, fast food, cars, etc. I'll have to introduce you to Jennifer. She was acting kinda ditzy back in 2015, but she's a really great gal." He sighed. "I'm definitely going to--"

Both passengers received a jolt as the locomotive's cow-catcher hit the DeLorean's bumper. They held their breath for a second, wondering if the engine would just plow right through them. Then, with a scraping of metal on metal, the DeLorean began to move. Marty grinned at Clara, who smiled back. They were on their way!

Monday, September 7th

8:33 A. M.

Buford came to with a groan. He hadn't thought that runt Eastwood could be so _fast_! He wouldn't make that mistake twice, though. This time, he'd draw and shoot immediately.

He lurched to his feet and saw to his intense displeasure that he was alone. Eastwood and his friends must have escaped somehow, and his gang had abandoned him. _Damn yellow-bellies. I'll have to teach 'em a lesson later. I don't need them to kill that duded-up egg-suckin' gutter trash. Now where is the runt and his blacksmith?_

He managed to catch sight of the locomotive, puffing steadily away into the distance. He grinned evilly. The trio had to be on that train. He was sure to get at least one of them, if he hurried. Buford whistled for his new horse, leaped on, and started after them._ I made a vow. Those two are gonna die._


	3. Train Escapades

Chapter 3

Monday, September 7th

8:39 A. M.

Doc activated his walkie-talkie. "How fast are we going, Marty?"

Marty checked the speedometer. "About 25," he reported. _Way too slow,_ he added mentally.

"All right. I'm throwing in the Presto-Logs." One by one, Doc picked them up and tossed them in. "Now, do you see that new pressure gauge?"

"Yeah, Doc, we both do."

"That will tell us the boiler pressure, and tell us how close we are to the danger zone of 2000 degrees. Clara, while Marty's watching the speedometer, I want you to keep an eye on that. I'd better warn you, each explosion will be accompanied by a sudden burst of acceleration. So hang on!"

"Can do, Emmett," Clara said. "How are you back there?"

Doc tooted the whistle in response. "I'd kind of like to take the train back with us!" he laughed.

_In the back_

Buford's new steed, as used to these types of excursions as his old one, galloped after the train like a horse possessed. Buford checked his gun, then urged the horse on even harder. In the cab, he could just make out Brown's flowing white hair. For a moment, Buford had to wonder why he was stealing a locomotive. Then he shoved the thought out of his mind and concentrated on catching up.

The horse pulled even for a few seconds, sweat and foam streaming from its flanks. In a practiced move, Buford jumped off the saddle and onto the wood car's ladder.

Then the world exploded.

Monday, September 7th

8:41 A. M.

Clara barely had time to say, "The green log is about to go off," when she was pressed violently back into her seat. The countryside on either side became a bright blur as they rocketed forward. "Golly!" she gasped.

"Whoa!" Marty yelled. He seemed just as shocked as her. "Man, I didn't expect that."

Doc, back on the train, didn't seem too perturbed. "What's our speed now?" he asked, fairly calmly.

"35 and counting!" Marty said, adrenaline pumping. "Jesus, those things really work!"

Clara normally would have frowned on his swearing, but she thought it appropriate for the circumstances. "I know," she said, a touch breathlessly. "I hope being in a regular car isn't like this." Marty tried to give her a reassuring look.

"Okay, I'm coming aboard, Marty," Doc reported. He tossed his engineer's cap to the floor and very carefully climbed outside the cab. Keeping a tight hold on the steam feed line on the side of the train, he began inching forward.

On the back of the train, Buford tried desperately to figure out what had just happened. The trains he knew didn't abruptly speed up like this. But that little jolt of speed had forced him to cling for dear life to the ladder.

The moment seemed to have passed, though. He climbed up the ladder and onto the wood. There was that fool smithy, climbing along the outside of the train. And now Buford could see a weird-looking carriage being pushed along by the locomotive. Buford shook his head in bafflement. Ever since that blacksmith had arrived in January, weird things had been happening.

_Time to put an end to 'em,_ he decided, pulling his gun and aiming. Everything would end with a bullet between the shoulder blades.

With no warning, the train burst forward again! The gun dropped from Buford's hand as he was thrown back onto the wood. Yellow smoke flew around him, making him cough. "Dammit!" he yelled.

On the locomotive, Doc barely had time to grab a second hand-hold as Clara yelled, "Look out, Emmett! We're almost into the yellow!" _Great Scott!_ he thought as the train leaped forward. _Maybe I made those logs a little _too_ strong. It would explain why my forge blew up once._

"Doc?" "Emmett?" Marty and Clara's voices sounded pensive.

"I'm okay," he yelled into his handset. "I'll get there." He didn't bother to add what he was thinking -- _I hope!_

As he continued inching along to the cowcatcher, he suddenly thought he heard something. A voice of some sort. Someone calling his name. _But that's ridiculous,_ Doc thought. _Nobody else could possibly be--_

BANG!

Monday, September 7th

8:45 A. M.

Clara and Marty started when they heard the noise. "That sounded like a gunshot," Clara murmured.

"Do you think something might be wrong with the boiler?" Marty asked fearfully. "Doc did mention the darn thing could explode."

"Yes, but -- we're nowhere near 2000 yet. It's got to be something else."

Marty leaned over Clara and looked back at the train. He gasped in horror. "Holy shit! It's Buford Tannen!"

"Oh, _wonderful_!" Clara snapped.

Back on the train, Doc had looked back as soon as the bullet had clipped his shoulder. Buford Tannen was grinning at him, dropping his small derringer and extracting his knife from his boot. "You should have paid me that 80 dollars," he said evilly.

Doc grabbed his walkie-talkie, ignoring the pain in his arm. "Buford Tannen's on the train!"

"We know, Doc!" Marty yelled back. "Hurry up!"

"No, Marty, we have to stop! We have to get Buford off!"

"WHY??"

"Because if he doesn't continue the Tannen line, we'll have a major paradox! If Biff doesn't exist, a major factor in getting your parents together will be eliminated, thus probably eliminating you!"

"Oh, perfect! I don't want to owe my existence to a Tannen!"

"'Fraid you have to. What's our speed?"

"Four -- Doc, the windmill!"

Doc stared as the structure, their fail-safe point, sped by. Marty sounded frantic. "Doc, you'll never make it, we're at 50 miles per hour! You gotta get in the car!"

Doc looked back at Buford, who was climbing down on to the engine. "Er -- this may seem a odd question, but do you have kids?"

Buford blinked. Nobody had asked him that before, especially not someone he was going to kill. "I've got a boy and a girl, courtesy of that Luann filly at the saloon." His grin returned. "I bet my boy will love to hear how his pa killed a no-good cheating blacksmith on a speeding train."

That was all the encouragement Doc needed. He quickly resumed his flight toward the DeLorean, Buford following.

A minute later, Clara grabbed Marty's arm. "Marty, look! We're almost at 2000 degrees!"

Marty looked. Sure enough, the needle was just brushing the red. He snatched up his walkie-talkie. "Doc! THE RED LOG'S ABOUT TO BLOW!"

And did it ever! The smoke-stack exploded as the third and most powerful Presto-Log ignited. Flames poured from the mouth of the boiler, rivets burst from the sides. Red smoke and flame made everything around look hazy. There was no stopping this train now.

Clara shrieked as the DeLorean did a wheelie, kicking up to 75 miles per hour. "Couldn't we have done this any other way?!"

"It'll be over soon," Marty panted as the car went back down. "Where the hell is Doc?" he added, taking another glance back.

He felt his heart stop beating. Both Doc and Buford had been thrown by the blast. Both were now clinging tightly to the metal steam line, feet only inches above the ground. Doc was swinging his feet wildly, trying to regain his footing on the ledge. Buford, not one to stop a killing for such a minor inconvenience, was slowly but surely making his way along the line, knife in his teeth.

Clara saw it too, and began to cry. "He's never going to make it! Marty, don't you have anything that can help him? Future technology?"

A light bulb turned on in Marty's head. "Yes!" He grabbed his hoverboard from between them, where it had slid. "Rope, rope, I need some rope," he muttered, searching in the back.

A loud rip distracted him. Clara was tearing the hem out of her dress. "I doubt this is the style in 1985 anyway," she quipped, handing him the fabric.

"I promise I'll buy you a new dress," Marty said thankfully, taking it.

Monday, September 7th

8:50 A. M.

Doc gave up trying to get back on the ledge. He knew he was destined for one of three fates. He could lose his grip and fall to the tracks. Buford could succeed in his endeavor and stab him. Or, he could go over the ravine with the train. No matter what now, he was going to die.

Buford smiled at him, removing his knife from his teeth with care. "Prepare to meet your maker, blacksmith," he growled, almost within stabbing reach.

_What a way to go,_ Doc thought, closing his eyes.

Then he opened them again. Marty was yelling at him, saying something about slipping. Wondering if he was trying to say goodbye, Doc turned to look at him, inching a bit away from Buford in the process.

His heart leapt. Marty was holding the hoverboard out! If he released it at the right time, there was a chance he could float to safety. Marty and Clara would be transported to the future, Buford would go into the ravine and he. . . . He would be stuck forever in 1885, without his best friend or beloved Clara. _Maybe I'd rather plunge into the ravine._

Speaking of which, he saw a sign coming up fast, warning that it was unsafe to proceed. "Marty! Clara! Look out!"

The pair spotted the sign just in time and pulled back into the car. The sign shattered as the DeLorean ran through it, showering wood everywhere. Buford nearly lost his grip, distracting him from killing Doc.

Marty and Clara leaned out again. "We're at 80, Doc! Ready?" Marty roared.

Doc nodded, feeling melancholy. There was no chance of getting in the DeLorean now. Marty released the hoverboard. Borne by the wind, it zipped backward. Doc concentrated and stuck out his foot. The pink strap caught.

Doc looked over at Buford, who was watching the proceedings with a frown. "So long, Charley," he quoted, releasing the line.

Marty had once tried to teach Doc to skateboard, after hearing him describe the physics of the activity. Doc had never really mastered it, but he could keep his balance pretty well. That skill was coming in very handy as the board was tugged forward.

_Wait a millisecond. _Forward_? But that isn't right! According to basic physics, both the board and myself should be moving _backward_ still, due to the force of the wind. So why am I --_

_Great Scott._

Tied around the pink strap was a length of material from the bottom of Clara's dress. Marty and Clara were using it as a tow line, pulling him, with all their might, into the car. _How ingenious! If only they'll get me there in time._

He spared a glance back for Buford. The gunslinger was staring at him, mouth agape with shock. Doc waved at him cheerily and started kicking over to the DeLorean.

At the last second, 85 miles per hour, they prevailed. Doc tumbled into the car. Clara grabbed him and kissed him extremely hard before he could do anything. "Emmett, I was so frightened for you. . . ."

"You okay, Doc?" Marty asked as Doc settled himself onto Clara's lap and closed the door.

"I liked the landing," Doc grinned, making Clara blush. He quickly noted the speed. "Prepare yourselves for temporal displacement."

Marty stuck his hat on his head and tightly gripped the steering wheel. Clara held onto her seat with one hand and Doc with the other. Everyone held their breath as the car hit 88.

Back on the locomotive, Buford watched numbly as, right before it hit the "End of Track" sign, the strange carriage in front of the train disappeared in a brilliant flash of light. Fire trails appeared on the rails, extending impossibly out into the air over Shonash Ravine.

End of Track? Shonash Ravine?

Buford had only the time and presence of mind for one final word -- "SHIT."


	4. Back In The Future

Chapter 4

Sunday, October 27th, 1985

Hill Valley, California

3:15 A. M.

The peaceful late-night stillness was shattered by a triple sonic boom. In a second flash of light, the DeLorean appeared, coasting along the rails. Just like for a regular train, the warning bell began to toll, and the stop signs lowered as they passed through the intersection.

Clara had her eyes closed tightly. "Did we make it?" she asked fearfully.

Marty and Doc looked around. A relieved smile lit Marty's face as he saw the Hilldale sign and modern road. "We made it!"

"Welcome to 1985, Clara," Doc said cheerfully.

Clara opened her eyes and glanced around. "I'm so glad." Suddenly her eyes flicked to Doc's shoulder. "Emmett, you're bleeding!"

Doc looked where the bullet had nicked him. "It's just a scratch, and I'm damn lucky it's just a scratch. Buford must have had a hard time aiming on the train, thankfully."

Clara nodded gratefully. "I'm just glad everything's over with. I don't know if I want to ever travel through time again."

"I most wholeheartedly agree. It's probably best to just let time take care of itself." Doc opened his door as they rolled to a stop. "Let's go home."

They all piled out of the car, Clara looking all around in wonderment. Doc, noticing her state of undress, gallantly handed her his heavy coat. He glanced back at the DeLorean with a frown. Then he climbed back in and, with skilled, careful hands, removed the flux capacitor. "Just as a souvenir," he answered Marty and Clara's questioning looks. "This machine _was_ my dream for 30 years."

They understood. Doc tucked his keepsake under his arm. "So --" he began, grabbing his and Marty's luggage from the back.

"We gotta see Jennifer first," Marty interrupted. "I gotta make sure she's all right. I still can't believe we just left her there. What if somebody tried to hurt her? Or -- do what Biff did to my mom?"

"I wouldn't worry about it. Before I went searching for you, I found a heavy spanner and put it by her side so she wouldn't be defenseless. And now that our regular time line is restored, she'll be fine. We should go to my house first, however -- then we can take my van to hers." Marty conceded the point.

Clara openly gawked at the electric lights she saw shining on the road. "How do they work?" she asked, interested. "Like light bulbs back in 1885, back East? How many of them are there?"

"Millions. We've made many improvements over the past 100 years," Doc smiled. "We have many electrical devices now. I'll show you some later."

"Hey, if you want, I'll lend you my U. S. History book," Marty offered. "It's got a ton of info on the past century. You'll be caught up in no time."

"Why, thank you Marty. I appreciate it."

It wasn't all that far to Doc's place from the railroad tracks, which was good. Marty was very thankful that no one was out to see them. After all, all of them were still dressed for the Old West. And poor Clara didn't have much of a dress left after her adventures. Even with Doc's coat on, she was a little too revealing.

Doc sighed as his garage came into view. "Home sweet home."

Clara seemed concerned. "Emmett, no offense, but it seems rather -- small."

"It'll fit us until I find a house. It's bigger than it looks, honestly."

As Doc unlocked the door, a gray blob of fur ran out to meet them. "Einstein! Hi boy!" Doc said, scratching the dog's head. "Did you miss me?"

Einstein certainly seemed to have. He licked Doc's face, then Marty's as the teen patted him. Coming to Clara, he sniffed and whined in puzzlement. "That's Clara. She's going to be moving in with us."

"Hi Einstein," Clara said, holding out her hand for inspection. Einstein gave her a through sniff and let her pat him.

Doc's garage was comfortingly familiar after Doc and Marty's days of excitement. Marty sat on the cot by the door and just listened to the ticking clocks for a minute. _Damn, it feels good to be home._

Clara looked around the place. "Now I know why you want to marry me," she grinned. "You rather desperately need a housekeeper."

"It's my own organizational system. I know where everything is. Mostly."

Both Clara and Marty snickered. "Over here is the worst," Clara added, pointing to Doc's research area. "What happened? It looks like something blew up."

"Blew up? What are you talking about?"

"This mess in the corner. I don't know what it's supposed to be."

"Let me see. . . ." Doc's jaw dropped. "Great Scott! Marty, did you hook up to the amplifier?"

Marty gave a sheepish nod. "Sorry Doc. Your phone call came _after_ I tried to play some tunes."

Doc grumbled to himself as he inspected the damage. "Suppose it's my fault for not telling you earlier. So what happened? Are you all right?"

"Well, it kinda blew me into one of your bookcases. I was a little sore earlier. I tried to put all your stuff back in the right place, but --" he shrugged. "If you need any help reorganizing it, I'm here."

"It wasn't that organized, really. You can help me repair this amp, or build a new one in my new house."

"I don't know if Clara would like that," Marty snickered, starting to feel antsy again. "Can we go see Jen now? This place ain't Hell Valley by any stretch, but you never know who might be wandering around at night."

"I'll drive you over, then drop you off at home. I want to apologize to her about my actions with that sleep-inducer." He glanced over at Clara, asking with his eyes if she wanted to come.

Clara waved him along, yawning. "It can wait until morning. I'm exhausted!" She sank down onto the cot. "I'll be here when you get back." Doc nodded, kissed her goodbye, and escorted Marty to the van.

Sunday, October 27th

3:37 A. M.

Jennifer was still sound asleep on the porch when they pulled up to her house. Marty examined her with a frown. "I thought you left -- wait, would it have disappeared when I burned the almanac? The whole 'thinking fourth-dimensionally' business?" Doc nodded, pleased. "Okay." Marty hopped out and sat down beside her. "Jennifer?"

Jennifer smiled a little, but slept on. Marty gently poked her, then leaned down and gave her a kiss. Midway through, he felt her lips respond to his. "Humm -- hi, Marty," she yawned, sleepily giving him a hug. "I had the weirdest--"

She paused when she saw his clothes. "Marty, what are you wearing?"

Marty smiled, only too happy to be reunited with the woman he loved. "I've gone cowboy." He kissed her again. "Are you feelin' all right?"

"Yeah, mostly." She frowned, blinking. "But I had a really strange dream. Doc had built a time machine, and he took us to the future. And suddenly I was in our house in the future, and I got to see your parents and our kids." She made a face. "We got married at the Chapel O'Love."

"What? Why??"

"Don't ask me. But it's definitely not where I want to get married in real life."

"Me neither. Sounds like we eloped."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. And your mom said something about a traffic accident that ruined your life, and that I deserved better. She was really being mean to you behind your back. And you got fired from your job -- which might have been a good thing, you seemed to be working for Needles." She looked thoughtful, unaware for the moment of Marty's bug-eyed stare. "You know what's weirdest? It feels like my dream actually happened. But that's silly. How could I go from Doc's car to our house in a few seconds?"

"Because I'm an idiot, that's why," said Doc, startling both teens. "Jennifer, I want to apologize to you. I made a major miscalculation, and you had to suffer the consequences."

"Jen -- it was real," Marty added, taking her arm. "Doc built a time machine and took us to the future. What's this about me working for Needles?"

Jennifer was baffled. "He -- well -- but what happened? How on earth did I end up in our house? I was in the car with you guys, asking all those questions--"

"You were asking so many questions about the future, I panicked and sleep-induced you," Doc confessed. "I didn't want you to know too much about your own destiny. But instead of keeping you in the car, I put you in an alley. I foolishly assumed it would be safe -- after all, according to my plan, Marty and I would be gone for only a few minutes, and you'd wake up at home. But when we came to pick you up, the police had already found you and were taking you 'home.' I would have been there earlier if not for traffic. I'm very sorry. The only excuse I have is that I was still inexperienced in time travel."

"I'm sorry too, Jennifer," Marty said. "I should have gotten on his case more."

Jennifer looked at both of them. "Well, I guess I can forgive you. I was acting like a real ditz in the car, wasn't I?"

"You were curious. So was I. I should have recognized that and warned you before doing anything drastic. I didn't mean for you to be traumatized."

"I know you didn't." She hit him lightly. "But don't pull that stunt again!"

"I can't. We destroyed the time machine."

"Destroyed it?" She examined Doc and Marty's clothes. "I guess you guys went to the Old West after taking me home. What have you been doing?"

"I'll tell ya in the morning. I'm exhausted. I don't think I've gotten a decent night's sleep since I started time traveling." Marty mock-glared at Doc. "Why couldn't you sleep-induce me instead of her?"

This earned a chuckle from both Doc and Jennifer. "I require sleep myself. We'll give you all the details in the morning, I promise."

"I'll be ready for ya."

Marty gave Jennifer a parting hug. "I'm sorry we didn't get to go to the lake."

"Me too. But with any luck there'll be other times." She kissed him goodbye. "I'll see you in the morning."

"See ya." Marty followed Doc back to the van.

Sunday, October 27th

10:15 A. M.

"C'mon kid, up and at 'em!"

Marty blinked open his eyes. His father was standing over him, a cheerful grin on his face. "I guess it was a late night at the lake. Did you have fun?"

Marty flung his arms around his father. George started, then hesitantly returned the hug. "What's this for?"

"Just glad to see you," Marty said truthfully. The memory of George McFly dead by Biff's hand was still fresh and painful. "Yeah, it was a late night. Where is everybody?"

"Getting ready for brunch, just like every Sunday."

Oh, right. Marty had a vague memory of that now. "That's what I figured," he covered, yawning. "I'll be down in a minute."

After savoring a hot shower and changing into fresh clothes, Marty headed down the hall to the kitchen. Linda was chatting on the phone with one of her boyfriends. Dave was filling out a form of some sort, probably for work. Lorraine was flipping through George's novel. "Hey guys," he said, smiling brightly.

Linda and Lorraine nodded their hellos. Dave looked up. "Hey bro. You came in pretty late last night, didn't ya?"

"Yeah. Jen and I got to talking about -- well, all sorts of stuff."

Dave nodded, a sneaky smile on his face. "Must have been a nice chat, she walks to talk more. She called and said to meet her this afternoon in Oak Park."

"Oh, Dave, I believe Marty when he says they were talking," Lorraine gently chastised. "Your father and I had plenty of dates just to talk and snuggle."

"Yeah, Dave, get your mind outa the gutter," Marty said. Dave just grinned and went back to his form.

George appeared on the scene, frowning. "Lorraine, have you seen my glasses?"

"They should be in your suede jacket, honey. Honestly, we should buy you a case or a string or something. You keep losing them."

"I also keep forgetting to buy the case," George said, retrieving the wanted item. "I should just keep my contacts in all the time."

There was a knock at the door just then. "I'll get it," Marty said. He opened the door to see Doc, Clara, and Biff standing there. Doc and Clara had obviously gone shopping that morning, as Clara was sporting a very pretty modern dress. Biff had changed into a red sweat suit. "Hi Marty," he said politely. "I'm here to do some more work on the truck."

"Right in the garage," Marty said, trying to hide the contempt he felt for the man before him. After dealing with at least four versions of him, and an ancestor, Marty didn't exactly feel glad to see him. "And don't forget--"

"Two coats of wax, I know, I know," Biff nodded, heading for the garage. "Little prick," he murmured under his breath.

Marty ignored this and turned to Doc. "Hey Doc, how ya doing?"

"Fine, fine. How are you?"

Marty glanced back at his family. "Just great," he smiled.

"Hi Dr. Brown," Linda called, hanging up the phone. "Who's your friend?"

Doc and Clara exchanged a loving glance. "This is Clara Clayton," Doc introduced Clara. With a very subtle wink at Marty, he added, "My fiancee."


End file.
